


She could not let him go

by Loveforthestory



Category: Charloe-fandom, Revolution (TV)
Genre: ...with a twist...., Brothers will be Brothers, Charlie tracking down Monroe, F/M, Family, Hurt, Loss, Love, My story for the comics, although this time it is for different reasons, the people we lost and still love so very much, the people we love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4240491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveforthestory/pseuds/Loveforthestory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Bass feels there is no other choice but to go. When the sun rises again, Miles and Charlie watch him leave. But Charlie..she could not let him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She could not let him go, Part One

She could not let him go.

So here she was. Tracking down Sebastian Monroe. Again.

But this time, she was not tracking down Sebastian Monroe.

This time she was looking for him.

She was looking for Bass.

**Chapter One**

Five weeks ago

Sunset

_A wide round blazing golden sun was setting. Covering the landscape in a serene quiet shade of yellow. The light touched wood. Wood of the final silent marks in the landscape. There was no handholding. Miles stood on my left. Monroe next to him. Four rises in the landscape. Four goodbyes. Four more holes in our hearts and souls that could not take any more, for such a long time._

_Bradbury. I would never be able to hear that name again without breaking into pieces, and then put the pieces together again only to find one missing, again._

_Miles was Miles. Broken. Dark. A remark about making a star from sticks and grass for Aaron. Sarcasm, a final last attempt to keep us standing on our feet. I could not respond. The landscape was pressing heavy on us as I relived the moments where I watched my mom in my arms again. As Miles pressed a kiss on her forehead, our tears falling on her cheeks. As I watched Monroe scream Connor's name in agony, as he was holding his son, with so much love and rage and disbelieve, it would forever stay with me. The depths in this man, of love and loss and wanting to protect what was his, there on that street in devastation in his eyes and body._

_We were in this together already. Monroe, Miles and me, from the moment I choose to fight with them. Fight with them both, leaving my mom behind who already left me behind. This time not to leave me at a side of a road, but to escape into guilt and needing to make things right in fighting the nano. I thought I was done with her shit, but appareantly you can never be done with love when it comes to your family._

_The three of us. It had been like that for a very long time. It was like that, forged for good the moment I choose to fight with them. When I left Aaron and Priscilla and my mom behind._

_Those two men. They were my home now. My fighters, my family. Even Monroe. He had been for a very long time. But after the fighting, after this, now the sun was setting, setting on the day they had been still with us, he was locked in my blood, as we had locked eyes so many times before._

* * *

Bass walked away. Away from the blinding light that spread over the small hills of sand and ground they had made. Made by his own hands because he had to watch somebody go. Again.

He did not want to leave him behind. His son. His kid. His blood. Emma's eyes, Emma's gentleness. So much of himself too. So much of him in Connor. Of who he once was, of who he had become. All lost now. He had held Connor. Touched his curls, gentle large fingers going through the dark curls. He held him as he once held his baby girl, next to Shelly. Poured all his love in that hug.

And then it was goodbye. Miles on his right. Charlie on Miles' right. Three people that time had brought together. Bass felt her, felt his brother. Charlie. He had seen her. Seen her saying goodbye to Aaron, to Rachel. To Connor, as he had allowed her close. She had put a hand on Connors shoulder. As tears fell from her endless heart of grieve for his kid too. And the love he poured into his kid, he watched her pour hers into Rachel.

Both of them knowing what it was like, having family, your blood, impossible love filled with so much darkness, but nevertheless family. He understood. She understood. Her struggle with Rachel had been his struggle with Connor. In a different way.

They walked away from the graves, Miles first, an arm around Charlie, his hand covering her upper arm. Both of them silent. In tears. In shock. Bass following them. Miles'hand on his shoulder. The gesture did not reach him. The sun was setting, darkness came.

They made a fire. A small one, that did not seemed to be able to warm them. They sat the way they had stood earlier. Miles in the middle, Bass on his left, Charlie on his right. They did not speak.

Charlie could not find words for the dark feelings that made time fly by. She fell asleep, not realisng when the moment came her body crashed into sleep. But Miles, he was right behind her. He turned her way, his chest against her back, as he pressed her close. She felt warm muscles and watched the little dark hairs on his arm before her, as she fell asleep, Miles nose and grieve nuzzled in her hair, as she felt him breath.

Long hours passed. Charlie fell asleep, and Bass knew Miles would keep watch. His brother now turned to Charlie, his larger body covering hers, his large arm over her. But he would not stay. He could not stay. In the night, he did sleep next to them, although a bit further ahead.

Regret, love, what was, what could have been. All of that, leaving it here. Here in Bradbury.

He had to go.

_Sunrise_

He could not stay. Grieve and hurt were swallowing him whole. Not Charlie, not even Miles, not even his brother, could be enough now. Nothing would be enough. He could feel them, their eyes, with him.

He could not speak. Neither could they. Broken people had nothing to say.

He got his horse. Got himself together. And then, a final piece of brotherhood and family returned.

He walked over to Charlie. Silently. She had her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. She was so goddamn pale. But the moment he walked up to her, Charlie let her arms fall, as her guard dropped. Their embrace did not last long, but they pressed each other's bodies firmly against the other. Needing that goodbye, needing to hold the other.

And when he did not think he could bare it, her eyes met his, right before he let go. He understood. She understood. She had shared a road with them, he had saved her life, she had saved his. That would not change. Miles would take care of her, he was sure. So damn sure. It was his brothers turn to take care of her now.

Charlie felt his fingers brush the skin under her tank. Briefly, His large hands and strong arms around her, as she held him as she never thought she would hold Monroe.

He took her in, like she never let him take her in. Her smaller body, disappearing into his arms. The scent of her hair. He did not know it now, but he would remember all of it.

One more look, one more touch before his fingers moved away from her skin and her hands were not soothing his back anymore.

Bass turned to Miles. Turned to his brother. One more embrace, one more pat on the shoulders.

No tears. Both men were fighting them.

And then, he stepped away. Rage already filling his veins. He knew where he would go. Where he would start. He got on his horse, as two people,  _always family_ , watched him ride away.

**Chapter two**

Her eyes went to the ground. She was listening to the landscape. The ground, the trees whispering back.

Charlie brushed away a branch from her face. The leaves moved over her face, as gentle tiny fingers. She was sweaty, and dirty. But the walking did her good. She kept on grieving. Grieving for her mother. And their relationship after she came back into her life, was hard and rocky. But grieve was there again, only this time more differently. Each day out here turned it into a more bearable feeling. Each step soothing it somehow. It brought her closer to herself.

Grieve she had shared one night with Miles and Monroe. And then, shared with Miles. With lonely hours on horses, just them in the landscape.

She crouched down, her sandy boots in the dirt. Just like they once were. On a road, with a bounty hunter. She watched the road before her. Smiled. Adam. That was his name. Cute. But stupid. Real stupid.

Miles. She thought about Miles.

_One week ago_

_She had made up her mind. And god help somebody who tried to change a Matheson's mind. Their stubbornness would not let something else be._

_She had started packing. After weeks on the road with Miles they had found a small nothing town. Quiet, nothing ever happened here town. With a bar. Enough booze to kill the strongest grieve as Miles had crashed open the door, walked in with boots with unruly tied boots and had ordered his drink._

_They had found a place, it was small but it would do for now. She left the appartment behind._ _She found Miles in the bar. In his place where he would sit and drink quietly._

_He watched her. He probably already knew._

' _I will bring him back Miles,' Her voice sounded more steady then it had been in a very long time._

' _Any chance I can talk you out of it?'_

_She just smiled. She said goodbye. And before she turned Miles moved. He grabbed her hand, held it tightly in his two larger hands. The warmth of Miles radiating into her own skin._

_She waited. He nodded._

She had left the next morning, early, right before dawn. Just like she had done, once with him. Him. Monroe. Bass. She was out here, the elements beating around her body. The sun on her skin. She had walked for weeks and with every step she realised she was feeling more of who she thought she was. With every night under the stars were grieve could run wild, she felt more calm. Like she could breath. And somehow, on the road, she had just known. Known where he would go. What he had wanted to do.

She was not using the little clues in the landscape anymore.

She was tracking down Bass with her heart.

She felt it in her heart, she was closing in on him. On Monroe. On Bass. She was close.

_50 Miles south from Charlie_

Bass crashed open the door. A trail of blood and death already behind him in this large cool house, when the sun outside was strong on the roof. His hand went to his two swords, his mind to one moment where he had done the same, to get to her, to slay his way through every asshole who dared to hurt her.

He would slay his way again, through this house. Until he would find him. he needed this, needed them to fight him, so he could fight them. His eyes filled with the image of his son, his kid. First man, one kill. Then another as jaws locked and sweat filled his shirt, next to the blood.

Another room, a room he recognised from years ago. A staircase, he circled back. He lost count. And then, the guy he came for was there, in the room. The guy that had stolen years from him. The guy that had pretended to be a father to his kid. Connor already had a father, him. He was his. Only his.

'What...' words in Spanish, as he watched the smaller man in front of him. The look in his eyes told Bass the asshole knew he was going to die.

And then, with strong boots on the tile floor under him, he reached him. And with one slice and a torn face and jaws locked and rage, so much rage, Bass killed Nunez.

He was breathing harshly. The house silent. Bodies he did not even see. he whiped the sweat from his nose with the swords still in his hands. He roamed the house. Grabbed a bottle of something. He did not give a fuck. Empty. Broken. He did not stop looking until he had found what he was looking for. He knew it the moment he walked in. A larger bedroom, one bed.  _Connor's._ He found a closet with shirts, shirts with a scent he learned to recognise in the years on the road.

He let himself fall on a chair next to the bed, watched his swords, watched his son's shirt. And then, there was nothing left to do. The emptiness returned. The feeling of his son not here, took him whole.

He grabbed a chair. He grabbed a bottle.

He started drinking.

Connor's shirt still in his hands.

* * *

Charlie made her way all the way to the steps of the villa. The compound was silent, eerie silent. She had a long week behind her, but the more she felt him, the more she could not stop. She opened the gate. No one there to guard the gate. She watched as she saw the first men. And she felt it, he was here.

Empty hallway, empty rooms. A staircase she climbed. And then, open doors, more grieve slashed down to the ground. She knew that the cuts in the men belong to him.

The door was half closed as she saw him. In a chair, a shirt in his hands, looking like hell. He was thinner, there was still blood dried up on his skin. There were bottles, more than one on the floor. One in his hand.

He looked up at the sound of her coming in. Charlie watched his eyes. Eyes and the lines around them she knew now by heart, that were normally filled with steal, or softness or challenge for her were hollow. It ripped right through her as she sucked in a breath, a gasp of her for him, for so much of his pain.

Bass saw her, but could not understand why the hell she was here. Charlotte. Charlie. Blonde curls, the sun through a window catching her in all of her strength. His hands started to tremble, the bottle crashed through the ground. The shirt not, still grasped in his hand as a lifeline.

He reached out for her and within two big steps she was with him. Her hands found his shoulder, moved his rocking trembling grieve filled tall body towards her belly as Bass could only let his body fall against Charlie.

Charlie caught him. And he did not know if his own arms were around her first, or her arms were around him first.

It did not matter.

All that matterered is that her body was locked against his, that she was here. Light in this fucking dark nothing world.

She held him, for as long as he needed to be held. Then she made a decision. This cave of grieve, she needed to get him out of here. She offered a hand, an arm around his shoulder as she helped him up from his chair. He smelled of whiskey and grieve. They walked back down the stairs. They walked outside.

He did not look back. The shirt clamped into his fingers.

* * *

They started to walk and somewhere in the air, on the road, after leaving behind what was once, his arm moved around her form, as they walked together. Instead of turning back and head north, they moved deeper into the land. High trees above them, the earth that carried new scents and colours here in Mexico

They stopped for the night. She made sure he drank. Water. She made him eat something. Charlie walked over to Bass. She crouched down in front of him as she helped him out of his shirt and pants, as she washed them for him, rinsing out sweat and hurt. Charlie watched his golden skin, his scars on his back that made her feel his pain as she was crouched down between his legs again, his tall in front of her as she washed the sweat and tears from his face with the cool cloth in her left hand.

Bass felt her between his knees. He was completely bare in front of her, but he did not care Because this is Charlie, a part of his inside, and she carried him with so much dignity that her fingers were soothing when she helped him out of his shirt and pants and she let a cloth of cool water run over his skin. He felt the coolness everywhere and he bowed his head at so much care. He could not look at her. He still had not talked to her.

There was a fire. Somehow there always seems to be a fire. A fire on the road where she woke up next to, with thunder and the rain around her, after he saved her, and carried her there, that night in Pottsboro. A fire of goodbye.

They sat together. They did not talk. They drank.

And then, after hours of her being with him, he looked at her. She felt it. After a while she felt his eyes no longer on her, but on the fire. It's the shift you feel after spending so much time with someone, the shift that is small and almost a whisper.

When he talked his voice was low and rough and beaten.

'I wish I could have brought him home.'

Bass spoke the words with raw real tears behind them. Honesty and truth in each and every of his words.

Her voice had never been this empathic and warm and strong for him. Until now.

'He is already home, Bass. With you.'

It was the moment he surrendered to tears as he pulled a hand over his face. His tears howled through his body. He couldn't stop.

This time, near this fire, Charlie did not keep her distance. She moved closer as he pulled her closer. Both crying, here under the solace of Mexican trees. Finally admitting their grieve. Together. He blinked, the salt of his tears stinging in his eyes. He cried more. This time she cried with him.

The moment she got closer to Monroe, Bass pulled her closer and they got all entangled in the other. Her nose and side of her face ended up against his chests and the passage to his strong, wide neck. His taller beaten strong wide body moved up against and all over her side as a shield, her chests, the arch of her breasts now close to him. Theirs arms were all around the other, were everywhere. Touching together with grieve that never seemed to want to stop, but so did their touching and stroking and seeking fingertips on skin from the other. Her hand around his wide strong side, his hand going over and through her hair.

They fell asleep together.

**Chapter three**

They travelled, she hunted. He sat. Dark broody thoughts with sharp jaws and endless blue eyes. He drank. She drank with him. His shoulder close to her upper arm. A dark cloud around him.

But always close to the other.

It was theirs Again.

When they have to sleep, she crawled under the blanket with him. He was close enough to sense his breath, to take in the scent of his neck, just above his collar bone.

It is what settled her every damn night.

She somehow was not ashamed of it. His scent, his rock solid shoulder, his gentle touch when she was sure she could not take anymore grieve that touched whatever skin he could caress.

She took it all. It was comfort, it was the last thing to hold on to before tumbling down of an cliff. She slept in Bass' arms, breathing against his strong neck, her hands on his chest. He slept, her curled up around him as he sought out solace in her hair. And dammit, he needed her, her warmth, her weight of her chest and hips and breasts against his body. They learned to somehow get through the next second again. The next minute. That turned into knowing how to get through the next hour on the road. They remembered. Together.

They spend long days on the road, both pushing each other, staying on the road during the day, to keep other thoughts out.

Charlie realised now he was quiet, too quit, how much she missed him being a crude ass. He was too quiet and she missed the banter, that she looked back now upon as easy banter, as something that was already revealing so much about them both. Because somehow they had become a  _both._

She doubted if they will ever fall in that easy banter again. If she would hear him make a well placed and very personal infuriating remark about movies and people she never got. If she would ever see those blue eyes fire up at her, if she would ever get so close to him she can feel her heartbeat going fast and so much sizzles in those moments where their eyes look for the other.

But for now, he was here. With her.

And she was taking him back to Miles.

* * *

It was at the evening of the last day of their seventh week on the road they reached the small town where Charlie had left Miles. They rode in silence. Bass next to her as the ride into the town. They got of their horses and walked the last part. She needed her both feet on the ground for this last part.

Miles was looking through the street, one glass of whiskey in hand when he saw them. And when he did, he could not hold back. His hand started to tremble. He had to put the damn glass down as he moved away from the bar. His shirt open, his swords, ever there, strapped to his belt. Once, Charlie had came to Chicago to ask for his help. She had brought him back from his own hole of self-hate he had created there in that hotel. In that moment Miles remembered how Charlie had brought back Bass, as he walked with her to the town boarders, and he met his brother again under that old bridge.

And now, they had both come back. To him as he watched Charlie walk next to his brother, his insides, the guy, the brother he had fought many years with. He had grown up with. He had shared his life with. She walked close to Bass, their arms brushing every now and then. He walked towards them.

Bass watched Miles. The man, the brother, and how much they had both tried not to be, the man that was still his brother. They stood still, Charlie close with them. They stood still in front of the other. Watched the other. And then, strong wide long arms searched for the other, as Miles pulled him close, and Bass did the same.

Charlie was the kind of person that would not let her colours show that easily, just like Miles, but tears were ambushing her at the sight of brothers. Two brothers. She had found out the truth about the depth of their love on their way to Philly, many years ago. She had seen that truth as she had brought Bass back to Willoughby. In the field, Bass fighting next to Miles, Miles fighting next to Bass. In the struggle, in the love, in the fighting, the insults.

Miles pulled away from Bass just long enough to pull her close, one arm around Bass, one arm around her. Bass' large hand found her back, as she threw an arm around Miles as she found the back pocket of Bass' jeans to steady herself. She felt the tall strong wide chests of two men around her that she could not do without anymore.

She would not let them go anymore.

They were hers. She belonged to them. They belonged with her.

* * *

**Authors Note:  Thank you so much for reading this first part, the second part will be published tomorrow. I stopped at an earlier 'frame' in the comics. But I had to. I could not not write this story this way. So many other talented Charlie fanfiction writers have written stories, starting where the comics have stopped. They were of such great beauty that I wanted to do something else, because I already loved all those stories that I felt I did not wanted to add more there. They are fabulous!I chose a different route. I don't know if it is a fix it story for the challenge, but here we are...my take on the story, with a part comic, but then, with a twist.Feedback and reviews are always welcome, I love knowing you are still there.Love from Love**


	2. Part two

**Chapter four**

It had been a long warm pressing hot day.

It had been over two years since she found Monroe in Mexico. Broken, bloody. Sitting in that room, absolutely broken now the rage had subsided. After working his through Nunez' men and finally Nunez himself.

She had been hunting. She carried her loot of two rabbits and a smaller squirrel with her. She walked through familiar gates.  _Sylvania estates._  Home. Home for so long.

Home again.

_2 years ago_

_They had talked about it. Many times. Long. Often. But she wanted to go back. If they could not go back to Chicago, because of memories too sharp. If they could not go back to Philly because of a city in destruction and too much hurt waiting there, too much of a future that should have been different, after both Miles and Bass had chosen the city to build something that turned into their darkest build._

_They were both equally filled with dread. She knew, she felt it, she watched it in their shoulders and silent meeting of eyes between brothers. But they had followed her anyway. Their group of three, ranks closed. Followed her all the way through the country as the landscape around them changed._

_She started to recognise trees and scents. And there it was, her home. A wider path through the fields. Trees surrounding it. The small group of houses with a gate around it, just like she had left it. She felt the first press of sadness, sharp and so fast, of Aaron not walking behind her, with his backpack and glasses on._

_Miles was quiet, so was Bass. So she did what she knew how to do. She placed boot after boot in the ground and kept on going. She saw the house. Her heartbeat picked up as warm memories were there first. Warmth and goodness winning it from the desolated darker memories. They greeted her all when she placed a first step in the sand inside the walls that protected the town._

_Charlie looked around her and kept on walking, slowing down her steps until her father's grave came into sight. Until warmth moved away and darkness crept in. She remembers him, dying. Dying right before her, with kind eyes that Ben Matheson, her dad, showed his daughter one more time. And there, she had finally time to grieve her father as she sat down next to the place she, Maggie, Aaron and kind friends and neighbours had created for Ben._

_Miles had been restless. Shame and guilt that were still there to feel catching up. Bass kept to himself, giving Miles room to walk over to Charlie as he could see all the guilt and shame and pain, everything that was going on in his brothers eyes. He knew this place, only from reports Neville had send him, he knew this place from that son of a bitch's debriefing in his office. But now that place became real. Ben, the man he always felt as his big brother, died here. Because of the warrant Miles and he made. Because from any of his man at his command, he had sent Tom Neville for him. Palpable, as old shame and guilt that will never go away again, reached him. Again. He bowed his head, pursed his lips together and swallowed thickly._

_Miles walked over to the small grave of his brother. Benjamin. Big brother. Kind hearted. Smartass. Belonging to a time in Jasper where it was him, Bass, his old man, his mother who he never had that bond with that Bass had with Gail, Gail, William, Angela, Cynthia. Emma. School. Endless summers, playing soldiers, running through grass, over the bridge of the small creek. Life was simple then._

_Nothing was simple now._

_Bit it had been then. He was not sure if Charlie would let him close. But this was Charlie, and this girl had been loyal to him since day one. Heavy tear-drops clouded her eyes and then fell over her cheeks. He crouched down next to her, slowly. Charlie moved her head towards his chest, finding that place right under his chin that belonged to her. Only to her. He held her, as the sun slowly set and they sat in front of a grave, of her father, his brother. A man loved so very much by both of them._

_It got dark, the sun moved over and down the forests surrounding them. Eventually Charlie walked back into the house. Their house now. It was the familiar scent that filled her with more memories inside._

_Bass was still outside, as Miles followed her inside, his eyes went through the room. She threw her things on a couch. Some things had changed, some things made it through time. The house had not been touched, the small community had kept it for her, for them to come back to. Even when Ben and Maggie were slowly faded into time, the community had kept that house empty and after that nobody touched it._

_The couch, the fireplace, the large wooden diner table. Their pictures. The scent. All treasures to be discovered. Painful. So very painful. But also so very worth it as Charlie let her hand go over the mantel piece near the fireplace._

_But the moment Charlie stepped into her old bedroom, and she walked past Danny's and sat on his bed, she knew she made the right decision. She was home again. This is where she felt safe for so long. She would feel that again here. She just knew._

_Miles did not talk much, as Charlie showed him the house. Both of them understanding to give the other space._

' _Where is Bass?' Charlie asked Miles when they walked back into living room and kitchen._

_Miles nodded to the porch where outside, Bass stood still in front of. Charlie opened the screen door of the house. Her boots made the wooden floor under her boots, the wood of the porch creak under her weight._

_Bass stood before her. Unsure, his eyes wild, as he pulled a hand through his curls on the back of his head._

' _Charlie, I am not sure if this is a good idea...I...' Sebastian Monroe was not the man to ramble a lot, but he was unsure now and his words were not aimed with certainty now. He heard his own words and how damn pathetic he sounded._

_He dreaded this day, this moment, this place. He knew for sure this would be the day she realised he had to go, that she would tell him to leave. He would not blame her. She had already given him so much._

_She took a step closer._

' _You should come inside.' Bass could not pick up on any rejection of bitterness in her voice. She looked at him. Telling him again with his eyes._

' _Charlie..' he pressed his lips together, as he had to look away. He could not lose his shit, not here, fuck, not here._

_' I get it all right. I get that this place, coming back here is hard. For all of us. '_

_She turned back, looking at him again._

' _But you belong with us Bass.' She gave him that look she threw him outside that church when he had just delivered that Davis asshole. It was soft, and strong and reached straight to him._

_Just like then he can't look away over her shoulder._

_'It is the three of us now, Bass.'_

_And it was the way she pronounced his name. The way she made it sound like people had done before, that made him look at her, before she turned and walked inside._

_It was late when he finally had the courage to walk his ass inside. He sat down next to Miles, who poured him a glass full of burning whiskey. One sip and he knew this was Ben's. Warm, burning and with class. He almost grins. Ben. The grin was smothered with every piece of fucked up years that came after Ben allowing him into his family. But her hand on his shoulder calmed him down, as Charlie sat down next to Miles and poured herself a second drink._

Since that night time had moved on. She had walked through the gate many times since that day.

They settled into a life. Bass and Miles taking care of the house. Fixed the roof, helped out in the small community where people slowly and gradually accepted them. They kept themselves busy, but could also sit down and just drink with the other. They drank a lot. Bitched a lot, insulted each other a lot. Fell into some kind of normalness as far as their lives would allow.

As far as it would be ever normal after what they had been through. They fought, they grieved.

That was the thing with living with each other in a small town as theirs. That was the thing with living with the three of them, close, heart to heart, hurt next to hurt. There was nowhere to go. It was exactly what happened too when Charlie had to share a road from New Vegas to Willoughby with Bass. It was what made her see there was more to Monroe the moment she came back with him from New Vegas to Willoughby, six months after the tower. She had to share that road with him. She wanted to share her life with him now. Sometimes Miles needed space, as he left for weeks. Bass fell in weeks of dark brooding thoughts and crude remarks and old insults.

Their bond of three made it through those hard weeks and months. Against all odds, but they still made it.

They fought through everything that was still sharp and there from the past, Bass being here, Miles being here, with her in her old home brought every thing back to their doorstep.

The Militia, the madness of his presidency, the betrayal of Miles' when he left Bass to take care of all the shit in Philly.

Connor. Miles' decision to help Emma, to bring him to family in Mexico without ever telling Bass in the years to come, after Emma wrote him for help. Bass' admitting to sleeping with Rachel. Miles' fist in his face. Charlie slamming the door behind her when she had left him and Miles behind. Charlie coming back, telling him exactly and right in his face what a son of a bitch he was for being all in her face about Connor after screwing her mom.

Charlie's rage at her mom with nowhere to go for sleeping with Bass after it was Rachel that had left her, when she had to live her life without her mom , when she had walked out of her life and Danny and her dad, leaving her at the side of that road while she was screwing Bass in Philly at that same time. She had not looked at Bass for the rest of the week. Bass seeing the pain in her face and realise, that his reveal about that one night in Philly, did more to her then he had thought it would be. And he started to realise something. Pushing the fucking pathetic thought away that she might have felt the same now as he had done in a field in New Vegas once when he had watched her close, so damn close it still hurt like a bitch, with Connor.

It all stretched them far. Almost too far.

All the sharp edges, all the pain, all the accusations.

Until forgiveness came and put them back together. Slowly.

* * *

The weeks passed, turned into months, and those months turned into years. Two years. Life found a rhythm. Charlie dated sometimes. Leaving Bass in bad moods all over again, just like he had been with Connor. Bass fucked his way through his share of woman, drank his way through the nights that stayed lonely, no matter how many woman and booze he looked for. It earned him stares fromCharlie that made him damn uncomfortable for reasons that he could not touch.

It was Miles however that met someone. All Dark hair, gentle eyes, strong, and a no bullshit woman with enough gentleness and openness for them both. Sophie. Charlie watched how he fell in love, right before her eyes. It was good. She told him one night. She was okay. She was happy for him and started to trust and form a bond with the older woman as well. Sophie seemed to understand without Charlie having to even ask. She let Charlie come to her, as friendship between the two woman grew. Even Bass would be there for diner and a glass of whiskey when Sophie had invited him. It was strangely normal and both Bass and Charlie were silently happy for him, for them.

It had been a long warm pressing hot day. It still was a long warm pressing day. It was probably because of that, that it happened the way it happened.

She was warm, in need of cool water. Sweaty, done with hunting, ready for a drink and a cool bath.

Monroe.  _Perfect_. She still called him Monroe when she was pissed. And she was. Pissed. Very pissed.

She saw him a little further ahead, doing his stupid lean against a tree thing. She cursed inwardly. That man knew how to lean. She told herself to get a grip.

Bass watched her walking towards him on the path near high trees. And one look at her shoulders, her lips, god,  _dammit_  those lips, told him he was dealing with a very pissed of Charlotte. She probably had the right to be a bit pissed at him.

Last night they had agreed to go hunting together. He knew she did not like that, so that gave him a damn good opportunity to watch her face go all kinds of good annoyance  _and_  he got to spend time with her, yanking her chain even a bit more. He would call that a win win situation.

Of course things had gone south from there. He had left a note for her, telling he would be late. A note his brother had placed a glass of whiskey on, staining it and making sure she did not see or ever read it. When Bass had eventually walked into the kitchen without a Charlie there, Miles had told him about a very pissed of Charlie early this morning, who had assumed he was still banging some woman in an other bed than his own. She had been wrong. He had been drinking last night, but he also had promised a neighbour to help him with moving some heavy stuff first thing in the morning. That is why he was late. Of course Charlie had stormed of, giving Miles no time to explain things. Of course his brother had not been that eager to explain things to Charlie, enjoying the whole damn thing way too much.

Before he got a chance to speak she had already opened her damn mouth.

'What do you want, Monroe?' She marched right passed him.

'Really Charlotte, Monroe?' He said, being all ego and sarcasm, pissing her of even more.

They both knew they had moved on from her calling him Monroe and only Monroe, and Bass telling her, made her blue eyes fill with annoyance.

'Hey, Charlie wait, let me explain.' He followed her, her long blonde curls waving with every angry step of her boots.

'No, thank you. Already know,' Charlie said flatly, irritated feeling how close Bass was walking next to her.

'Oh you do huh?' Now Bass was starting to get annoyed too. God, she could be unfuriating.

'Yeah, you'd rather screw another woman than make sure you were there this morning after you asked me yourself to come and hunt with me.'

It was the moment she brought up the screwing another woman part, he knew. His heart started to beat faster. He knew her piss mood, because he had felt the same, so many times, watching her leave with another guy, even thinking about her with another guy.

She had stopped, he stood way to close. A path under the trees, the both of them alone.

'That is bullshit Charlie. I left a note for you, explaining why I was late. That moron just put his glass right on top of it.' He barked.

She dropped her loot to the ground, as he quickly turned her way, blocking her path back home.

There they were, again, chest to chest, her smaller frame right in front of them. Just like then, she would not step away from him. She stepped even closer.

Just like they stood face to face on that path under the trees when he had found her again, after they stood face to face, heartbeat to heartbeat and there was no escaping what had moved between them. One day in Mexico Charlie had wondered if they would ever banter again, if he would ever stand before her again, blue eyes seeking blue eyes, wide shoulders, her breasts so close to a strong chest, blue into blue, bantering, words against words. One locking of the eyes.

She had been afraid they would never be that way again. She realised now she had nothing to fear. Here they were again, emerging from time.

'And I was not screwing some woman last night Charlie. There  _was_  no other woman.' His eyes bore into hers, his tone started crude and irritated as hell and turned into a promise of danger and something else, and there was no way out, Charlie could feel her belly and even lower constrict with something that was dangerously close to something real good.

'Why?' She threw in his face. Realising what she had just asked him. Watched the blue go to a steal desire.

The moment she showed her colours, Bass bowed his head, bowed his whole body towards her. Bass kissed her, long, passionate, lifting her almost from the ground with her boots. Her lips under his, as the hairs of his moustache scraped over her skin in a way that set her, all of her, on fire. He tasted warm, like his sweat and all the things he was, and his tongue almost drove her through his knees. He caught her, feeling how fucking good she felt in his arms. Her tits, her hips, he pushed her close, his hands on her ass, pushing her against and over his groin, her demanding one of his large thighs between her legs.

He moved her against the nearest tree. Needing to add more pressure, to get her closer, to make her feel how much she was wanted.

Her hands cupping his face told him how much he was wanted by her.

'Fuck Charlie,' he growled.

'Bass...god...' She answered.

Her body was covered by his, as she held on to strong hard with muscles and training over the years arms.

Bass remembered her, as he watched her now. His mind had been there too, at that moment she had stood before him, under those trees, not far from Vegas. He remembered her, strong, fierce. One look, and he knew she remembered too.

'Wanted you since that moment Charlie,' Bass breathed into her ear, as he looked at her.

And there, he watched Charlie break, break into his arms, as he watched the woman she had become, as he watched them both and what and who they had become in her eyes.

Charlie heard his words, and she realised that there, on that road, after the fire, after the pool, after Pottsboro feelings had been shaken awake that never had gotten back to them not being there. Him being here, all of him, his strength, his darkness, his fear of being left alone that was so much her own, his crudeness, his loyalty. Him, Bass, telling her he wanted her. had been wanting her for so long, drove tears out of her that she was almost ashamed to cry.

But he gently removed them with his thumb. As he slowed down.

As he understood how difficult it was for her to put this into words. She would tell him what she felt, how much of her was his, how much she wanted him, how much she loved him.

She would. And he would be right there, next to her, gentle wide eyes listening to Charlie Matheson telling him she loved him. And he would tell her, with a rough needing kiss, crushing her mouth before he would roughly whisper to her how much he loved her.

But for now she showed him. Showed him how far they had come, all the way here by giving him her.

'Don't stop,' she said, a warm breath and asking blue eyes asking him, telling him, he could take her, all of her, here.

They touched. They removed each others boundaries. A tank, a shirt, pants, boots.

Until he had her in his arms, and his hardness was pressing against her thigh. His male curls above it tickling her stomach, turning her on even more.

She moved her lips, licked the shell of his ear, earning her a grunt.

'Fuck me , Bass.' Words with lust and filled with trust in a deep low moan. It was all he needed, as he moved deep inside of her. Watching her, needing to see how she looked with him moving inch by inch inside of her, her warm tightness colliding with his hardness.

They fucked, hard, needing that release that only the other could give them. Slowing down, because he loved her asking him, begging him for more, as he only wanted to give her more. More of him, more protection, more thrusting, more deeper inside of her, more her almost coming in his arms, eyes looking for eyes.

They made love. It was raw and real.

He looked at her, 'God, Charlotte, you are beautiful,' one kiss, one locking of eyes as he surrendered to her, as she did to him, close to his chest, her legs around his middle.

**Chapter five**

After that night against that one tree, breathing out of control getting back to normal, her grin, his smirk with pride that made her roll her eyes, nothing really changed. It just moved where they were heading to. Everything changed. But then again, nothing changed.

It was still the three of them. Miles, Charlie and Bass. The people they lost never far, close to them. New people adding slowly to their group of three. New people to love.

A son was born. Charlie would tell him when he grew up. She would tell him all of it.

About two young people who fell in love once, went to college, who wanted to buy their first car, buy their first home. Who wanted to get their family started. Who wanted to make this world a better place and ended up destroying it because of it. Of two people who moved to Chicago, Ben and Rachel Matheson. And started their family. She would tell him where in the story a little boy was born. Danny. Her baby brother. She would tell him about a brave young woman Nora, who became her sister in arms, her friend on the road. She would tell him about the kind, sweet Aaron and Priscilla. She would tell him Aaron's story about Ghostbusters in a city far away.

She would tell him about Connor Bennett. Young, with kindness in his heart that was covered in layers of darkness and being left alone to himself. Who had a father who loves him so very much, but she also would tell him that sometimes love is not enough. But that at the end, it does survive even when a person is not there any more to receive all that love. She would tell him about his mother, Emma, who choose to see good in people until the end, about the town where Miles and Bass came from. About two boys who grew up there.

She would tell him about Ben. She would even tell him about a boy named Jason, because behind all that hurt, it is the story of a girl, so young and green, that found her first head over heels love near a river bank and in a young boy. It is a story is worthy to be told.

When he would fall in love for the first time, he would understand, her half brother. Miles and Sophie's son. Miles' pride.Their pride and joy. Another Matheson. Another life added to their group. Their little group of three that now became a groupf of five.

She was going to sit down next to Benji, and tell him about the people who tried to live and survive and love in a world that became so much harder after the blackout.

The stories were what remained. The stories were hers to tell, and would be his to tell one day. In this world, that was how memories survived.

Because in stories, that is where the people you love are safe.

So she would tell him over and over again. The little boy, that is Miles and Sophie's. But not now, because he is so little, only five, but a real man in his heart already. Right now he wanted to hear other stories. They were happy, Miles and Sophie and Miles is a great father, still a bad ass, still kind and warm. Sophie took care of his heart as no other woman ever did.

A couple of years later, another child was born. Little Anne is followed by her baby sister Joy, a year later. Their little group of three turns into their group of seven. The little girl, and the little baby girl, that belong to Charlie and Bass are what happened when two people came together in passion and fighting for the other.

Anne and Joy have their eyes, and smiles, and  _her_  stubbornness, and  _his_  kindness and their joined talent to get into a lot of trouble and their joined heart to get to other always out of that trouble when they will grow up.

Grow up with a strong mother, a loyal loving father who would do anything to keep his family safe. Grow up with little Benji, grow up with an Uncle Miles and Aunt Sophie in a small community where life is safe and good.

'Daddy, tell me a story!' Little blonde curls move stubbornly up Bass' long legs.

Anne finds her way to the safety of Bass' arms that gently move around his daughter. Anne's eyes filled with trust for her daddy, who is her hero, and who's kiss she needs every night before he brings her to bed, a little girl in strong fatherly arms. She found a place against Bass' chest. Her little thumb in her mouth. Her smaller sister is in Charlie's arms.

'Yeah Uncle Bass, one with knights please.' Benji almost yells with enthusiasm.

Benji, who grew up fast, and thinks of himself as quite a man, but still loves it when his aunt Charlie hugs him and messes with his hair, joined them where Charlie and Bass had been sitting in front of the fire. The fire that both Miles and Bass made in the garden. The flames dance in the air, giving them warmth. The last glowing light of the day is illuminating them.

Charlie felt Bass eyes as he grinned at her. As he tells her with his eyes how much he loves her and the wonderful children she gave him. As he tells her there is nothing he would not do for his family. Tht he would still fight for them, for her. For his girls.

Than he grinned at himself, how he once had said against Miles in those frustrating weeks on the road a long time ago. ' _What are you going to do? Retire and play house with your girls huh?'_

Well, life could be a bitch, because hell, here he was. He was not sure about the retire thing, he was not old as his brother and Bas Monroe was a lot of things but retire and old were not there in his dictionary. But the part with his girls? He was so into that.

Benji sat down close to Anne, and Charlie and his favourite uncle Bass. Who he felt like he had found a second father in. He had punched a kid in school who said Bass was not his real family because family was only blood. Benji had punched the kid who dared to say that right on the nose, telling him exactly how much family his uncle Bass was.

Miles had told Benji not to crash other kid's noses any more, but then he had looked at Bass, at the moron that was his family, his blood, and pride had been beaming in both Bass and his own eyes. That kid, he was going to be just fine. They had poured a glass of whiskey and shared a table, a glass and pride and love for their family.

Just like they had done in Jasper, just like they had done on base, just like they had done in the early years of the Republic, when they had laughed and brought back memories of strippers and more good men stuff.

So, in the end, some things do survive, some things and values make it whole towards another point in time.

It was there, around that fire in a forest in a small town between people that were family in every meaning of the word, what they kept them going, what gave them something to fight for, without even knowing it themselves. They could sense it, it was all in the air.

'Knights it is,' Bass looked from Charlie, still gorgeous and fucking hot as ever, to his two little girls, that carry so much goodness in them, Anne and Joy, to Benji, to that one boy that felt like his own, that already watched out for his two little sisters, because that is how that little boy felt about his girls. Bass looked back to Miles and Sophie. He grinned to his brother who has a grin on his own face. Brothers.

Brothers in arms, brothers through time.

Always, brothers.

Charlie moved closer to Bass, to his tall body sitting next to her, to strong large arms encircled around his daughter, as he moved her closer and kissed her slowly. Earning him giggles from Anne, a little baby noise from Joy, a Benji that was not happy with this sight, a laughing Sophie and a Miles that still groans when Bass touched his niece.

'Dear God, Bass, I am begging you...the story,' Miles groaned, but with a warm smile in his eyes as he looked at Charlie. Charlie looking back at him, happy for having him. Miles. Her home, Her insides. Hers. She smiled at him. Sharing one love for one man. Bass.

'Yeah Uncle Bass, the story!' Benji mimicked Miles' tone as Bass couldn not help but laugh. Charlie grinning next to him, raising an eyebrow at so much Miles watched in his kid.

In the background, and old ferris wheel was a shadow next to the small town, the golden sun illuminating its structure.

Charlie felt Bass hand over her upper arm, as his arm moved around her. As she took in the scent of whiskey, and his strong manly scent,  _warm, home,_  and still turning her on, knowing what they will do when he would move in bed next to her later tonight, side by side, slowly making love as he made her gasp with desire and want and lust as she would come in his arms, and he would come in hers. Still after all that time, he is the only one for her. They still fight, she still stubborn, he still an crude ass.

Sebastian Monroe.

Bass.

He winked at her, knowing damn well what he was going to do to her later, when he had her alone in bed. One look from her and he knew she knew. Dammit, this woman.

Charlotte Matheson.

Charlie.

Their eyes locked and she felt the old shiver and goodness inside of her, flowing, enjoying her body responding to him, to all of him, his strength, his ego, his impossible lines that still infuriated her, his kind heart and the way she knew he will always protect them.

The children sighed with content as the grown ups finally are quiet, and Bass settled in for a good long story. With knights, and castles. And fights and princesses for the girls with long dresses and pretty curls. Princesses that can fight too, of course. Anne is the daughter of Charlie Matheson. Her princesses are ones of beauty but they know how to fight. It always earned Bass a couple of giggles from Anne, a chuckle from Charlie if he was lucky and he could never ever get enough of that in the history of ever.

And Charlie watched him, knowing if Bass knew how much he resembled Aaron right now, telling his story, making the kids smile, he would tell  _her_  this time she was delusional.

Sophie moved, and sat between the safety of Miles' legs a step lower on the porch, her body turned to his chest, Miles' hand around her waist and shoulder. The crickets filled the air, as their love for each other did too as Bass started another story.

'Once, there were these two boys who met this strong and beautiful blue eyed princess...'

_To be continued, because love never stops..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'The people you love are always safe and home with you.'
> 
> I wanted to write this story with that thought throughout the whole story. Somebody once shared this thought with me, after facing loss and grieve myself. Knowing loss, and we all know loss, is such a hard process. It never stops. It changes. But never stops. This was a story that started with the darker story we read about in the comics and yes, I stopped at an earlier 'frame' in the comics. But I had to. I could not NOT write this story this way. Maybe you recognise where we finished the story, it is the place where we began the story of Revolution once, with Aaron in that small village teaching the children. Now Bass is there, telling the children stories Aaron would tell. Miles holding Sophie, in the way he held Emma once in Jasper. I hid all these little pieces of Revolution in this story.
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It became a very personal story to me, because I really believe the people that we love, are here with us, or the ones we had to say goodbye to, are safe with us. Are home with us. Are safe with us in our stories.
> 
> Thank you for reading, with my gratitude I wish you all that is good, for all of you. Love from Love


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